


5 times Tony comforted Peter...

by confessa



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, this is supposed to be happier than my other fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-24 00:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14944181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confessa/pseuds/confessa
Summary: ...and one time Peter comforted him.A.K.A. how they reached father-son status before Infinity War.





	1. Uncle Ben

**Author's Note:**

> This is supposed to be my fluff-writing break while I emotionally torture Tony and Peter in my zombie AU fic. But it still turned out pretty angsty T_T I'm sorry.
> 
> Chapters won't be super long, because it's just a side project, but I do hope you like it!

 

Peter had tried to find something to occupy himself. He had switched on the TV and flipped through a dozen channels trying to find something to watch, but his mind was so unfocused, he switched to shorter videos on Youtube in the hope that it would help. Nothing had held his attention though, not even the tried and tested distraction of kitten videos - so he had taken out his homework and diligently prepared for the week ahead. Except the numbers in his Math problems and the words for his English essay might as well have been in Wakandan. Then, as a last resort, he had tried to nap, but that only left him with silence, his own thoughts and that empty, sinking feeling in his chest.

 

He checked his phone.

 

Six more hours until May got home from her shift.

 

Too long. Too much time for Peter to be consumed by his own thoughts.

 

He debated going out for a patrol, but the mere thought exhausted him, and he knew better now than to force himself to fight crime when his mind was clearly not prepared. It had led to more than one costly mistake in the past. Instead, he slipped on his web-shooters, stuffed his suit into his backpack as a precaution, shrugged on a jacket, and left the apartment.

 

He didn’t think about where he was going. He just knew he needed to be moving, needed to be doing _something_ , anything to keep his mind from turning back the clock and re-visiting that night, that moment when everything had come crashing down on him. Peter’s vision was began to blur out and he rubbed his eyes furiously. He wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t cry. Because if he began he might never be able to stop.

 

Peter didn’t know how long he walked, he barely registered his surroundings at all, trusting his spidey-sense to warn him if there was any danger. Slowly, he became aware that he was starting to bump shoulders with a lot more people than he normally would in Queens, the sounds around him more hectic, louder, the thrum of traffic, the honking of cars, the chatter of a thousand people coming to life around him. When he looked up, he jumped slightly.

 

How had he managed to walk right into Manhattan without even noticing?

 

People around him were giving him dirty looks and Peter scurried to the side of the pavement where he wouldn’t block anyone’s path. His stomach was twisting uncomfortably now. The implication of where his feet had unconsciously taken him was not lost on him. Because on the anniversary of Uncle Ben’s death, Peter’s subconscious had guided him to within one block of the glistening tower where Tony Stark’s penthouse was located.

 

Peter stood rooted to the spot, head craning up to stare at the uppermost floors of the gigantic glass structure, eyes squinting against the rays of the afternoon sun reflected off the windows. His eyes were dry now, but he felt infinitely worse having ended up here. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be burdening Mr. Stark with this. Tony Stark wasn't...he wasn't _family_ , or, or a _friend_. Sure, ever since the Vulture incident, they had gotten closer, but there were boundaries. This was an issue Peter should be talking to May about, or Ned, or hell, even MJ, now that she was hanging out more with him and Ned. In any case, he should be back home, doing his work and maybe helping around the house when May was out working for the tenth day in a row. Peter’s eyes began to sting again. He wished May wasn’t working. He wished she was home with him and he hadn’t just spent the past, what, three, four hours walking through New York aimlessly. He glanced at his phone. If he took the subway back now, he could make it back home in time for May’s return. He could clean the house a bit, order takeout, and have the living room prepped with a movie in time for dinner.

 

But there was this hole inside Peter’s chest and he just...he just needed to see Mr. Stark. Just for a bit, say hello. 

 

So he walked up to the tower, pushed past the giant doors leading into the lobby and headed towards the intercoms at the side of the elevators. He fidgeted for a few minutes, legs jiggling, hands clammy, as he worked up the courage to press the button for the penthouse suite. The residents walking in and out of lobby gave him weird looks and he had a wild fear that someone would call security on him and Mr. Stark would be alerted  _that_ way. Peter was not ready for a verbal assault. The thought spurred him into action just enough to finally press the button, before he quickly shoved his hands into his pockets as he rocked on his heels. God, what was he doing? He should just walk away. This was so stupid. He was just wasting Mr. Stark’s time. The man was busy enough as it was, he was probably not even going to answer. He might not even be home, maybe he was at the Compound, he still spent a lot of time there. Peter should just-

 

“What is it, kid?” The familiar voice crackled through the intercom. Peter froze. He wondered, wildly, whether it was too late to leave the building.

 

“Kid? You look like you're about to make a break for it. Now I’m curious. What did you do?”

 

“I-” Peter’s voice cracked. “I didn’t do anything.”

 

A scoff. “Yeah sure, and I’m Black Widow. Come up, kid, lemme see what damage you did to my million-dollar suit.” A pause. "Or yourself. Jesus."

 

The ride up to the elevator felt excruciatingly slow. Peter tried to calm himself down. He just had to act normal. Act cool. Ask Mr. Stark how he was, maybe grab some food from the fridge so it looked like he was dropping by for some freebies. He wondered vaguely whether he should just rip a hole in the suit now to give himself a better excuse, but then figured Mr. Stark had probably hacked into the building's security cameras, and if he ever found out what Peter was doing, that would open a whole other can of worms. No, he would just grab some food. That was a good plan, an acceptable plan.

 

When the elevator doors opened, Tony was waiting right there, dressed casually in a black tee and jeans. He was smirking. Peter's mind went blank.

 

“So?”

 

Peter shuffled on his feet. “So?”

 

“Okay, something is definitely off.” Tony said, eyes narrowing. “Did you kill a cat?”

 

“What? No!” Peter said indignantly. “I was…” What was his excuse again? “I was in the neighbourhood.”

 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “In the neighbourhood.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“In civilian clothes, just strolling about.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Enjoying the nice, Saturday air on the jammed, exhaust-filled streets.”

 

“...Yes?”

 

Tony closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s too early to deal with this.”

 

“It’s 5 p.m., Mr. Stark.”

 

“Like I said, too early.”

 

Peter thought Tony would toss him out right then and there, maybe even call Happy to drive him back to Queens just to make sure Peter left, but instead, he just clapped a hand on Peter’s back and led him inside the penthouse as if nothing was the matter. Something unfurled in Peter’s stomach. Like a knot that was loosening. He hadn't realised how painfully tense his entire body had been. 

 

“You hungry?”

 

“I’m okay.”

 

“Chips it is.” Tony said easily, throwing open a few cabinet doors before he dug out a few bags of chips. “Get a bowl. Let’s just pour everything out.”

 

Minutes later, they were seated comfortably on a sofa in Tony's massive living room, at each end of the three-seater, a bowl of chips between them. Gossip Girl was playing on the TV.

 

“Why...are we watching this?” Peter asked slowly.

 

“Shh, I’m cheering on Blair Waldorf.” Tony said, waving his hand at Peter without looking at him.  

 

Peter couldn’t help the snort of disbelief. Tony Stark, genius billionaire Ironman, was watching Gossip Girl and flapping his hands around like a cranky grandfather. He tried to turn his attention to the TV, but the image just kept coming back to him and he had to press his face into a cushion to silence his chortles.

 

Abruptly, the hairs on the back of his neck flared up and his hand shot out on its own accord to catch the incoming shot. Peter stared up with wide eyes at Tony, whose wrist was caught in Peter’s death-grip, the offensive cushion clutched in the older man’s hand. A couple of seconds ticked by.

 

This was war.

 

Tony used his other hand to grab another cushion, which Peter easily blocked. Then Tony actually _kicked out with his leg_.

 

“That is playing dirty!” Peter yelled out.

 

“You’re the one that interrupted my Gossip Girl marathon.” Tony yelled back, tossing more cushions at Peter, who caught all of them with ease.

 

“You do know I am a superhuman, and you are giving me more ammunition.”

 

Tony then activated the fucking suit.

 

“Who’s superhuman now, _bitch_.”

 

 

For god’s sake.

  
  
  


 

 

 

15 minutes later, they had both settled back down on the sofa, cheeks hurting from laughter and the living room a mess. Tony had thankfully not blasted any furniture, but some of them lay upturned, tossed aside in a bid to get at one another. Peter shook his head. It was hard to believe how the evening had turned out.

 

“I’ll help clear up, Mr. Stark.” Peter said, dragging himself to his feet. A hand grabbed his elbow.

 

“Just take a break first.” Tony said. “Plus I want to see how this episode ends.”

 

This time, Peter let him, sitting obediently and actually paying attention to the TV. It ended ridiculously, with two people Peter didn’t really recognise having sex - uncomfortable, considering he was sitting next to Tony. It was like that time Peter had unintentionally watched a sex scene with Ben, and his face burned even now from memory. The TV switched off right after the credits rolled and they found themselves in silence.

 

“So, what was happening in there?” Peter asked.

 

"Well, you see, when a man and woman love each other very much-"

 

"Not the  _sex_." Peter said, blushing hard. "I meant the plot! Like, what was going on?"

 

Tony shrugged. “No idea, I’ve never watched the show before.”

 

Peter blinked. “Wha---what?”

 

Tony raised his eyebrow at Peter. “Did you actually think that I, Anthony Edward "Tony" Stark, watches a CW show like Gossip Girl?”

 

“You knew Blair Waldorf!”

 

“Yeah, who doesn’t? I just saw the name off some magazine years ago.”

 

“Then why…” Peter stopped, face turning red and a warm feeling spreading through his gut. He turned away, eyes beginning to burn. A few seconds later, Tony said softly, almost kindly.

 

“Thought you needed a distraction, kid.”

 

Peter rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, blinking the tears away. He wouldn’t cry in front of Mr. Stark. He wouldn’t.

 

A hand grasped his shoulder firmly. “You’re okay, kid.”

 

He didn’t know if Tony knew, maybe the man did, but it didn’t really matter. Peter hung his head down and finally let the tears fall. For just this once, he would let himself do this. It hurt and felt good all at the same time - Ben, who had died because Peter had let it happen, Ben who would never be coming back, and Tony, here, doing something ridiculous just to make Peter laugh, and who was forming a presence in Peter’s life that he was too scared to label but which partially filled the hole that Ben had left behind.

 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

 

“No problem, kid. I’m right here.”

 

 


	2. Physics Test

 

Peter knew failing his physics test shouldn’t bother him this much. Sure, it was worth 10% of his grade, but he had done reasonably well for his other assignments and was on course to hit at least a B average for the semester provided he didn’t screw up his finals. Plus, lots of his classmates who usually excelled got terrible grades and Ms Warren had even acknowledged that she had purposely upped the difficult of the test.

 

“I thought it would give you all a bit of a challenge. Don’t be discouraged.” She had said sympathetically upon seeing the dejected expressions in front of her. “I can arrange for one-on-one sessions to run through your test answers with you.”

 

It really shouldn’t have been a big deal.

 

When he saw the big, red “F” on the top-right of his paper though, Peter’s heart had sank right through the floor.

 

It had just been a really bad week.

 

First, he had slipped during patrol, in part due to the rain but also due to his own absentmindedness. He had been complaining to Karen about how the pads of his suit didn’t generate enough friction on wet surfaces, and had mistimed his landing on the roof of a building. True to his complaints, he had skidded on the roof, feet sliding instead of sticking to the concrete, and tumbled painfully into a ledge. His ankle and wrist had been sprained, badly.

 

The sprain itself hadn't been the problem - it healed within a couple of hours - but it had led to two problems. One, swinging around put too much strain on his torn ligaments. Two, he was already in Queens and the buildings weren’t ideal for an injured Spider-Man to be webbing about. Which meant he ended up limping the last few blocks home. He had been soaked through by the time he got home, and since May was working late, he had returned to an empty, bleak house with no dinner.

 

That night, he found out someone had gone and uploaded a video of his fall onto Youtube. By the time he reached school the next morning, the parodies were all over the Internet. Even Ned was chortling away watching them on his phone during lunch. It just brought down his mood, thinking how people around the world were laughing at his expense when the fall had really hurt and led to a miserable evening.

 

 _Then,_ Flash had gone and exacerbated matters. Peter was used to being picked on, but Flash was really on overdrive that week. There were the endless taunts of Penis Parker and Puny Penis and Peter Rabbit every time Peter walked by him in the halls. He had dropped a cup of water on Peter’s Chemistry textbook - “It was an accident, Mr Cobbwell!” he had claimed innocently, and the teacher had been forced to let Flash off the hook since it was Peter’s word against his. He had then tripped Peter a record six times during a single P.E. session.

 

“You are pathetic.” MJ had said dryly, when he fell flat on his face yet again.

 

That had blackened his mood even more. She didn’t have to be so rude.

 

Over the next few days, he had thrown himself full-on into his evening patrols, staying out much later than he usually did because he needed the distraction, except the bank robbers got away, the kitten he tried to save from a tree broke its ankle when she scrambled out of his arms in terror, mewing pitifully all the way to the vet, and he snagged his favourite shirt on a protruding nail when he was changing back in the alleyway. He was forced to toss it out when he got home, the tear too large for May to fix. She had ruffled his hair sympathetically, which made him feel  _worse_. 

 

All of that was followed by him completely forgetting that there was a Physics test on Friday. A last minute revision session over lunch wasn’t enough to save him. Now, the “F” stared at him smack in the face.

 

“HA, Penis Parker failed his test!” Flash yelled in glee behind him.

 

Peter groaned. Ms Warren’s sharp admonishment of Flash didn’t help. It was already a terrible, terrible week. Ned reached over and patted Peter on his back.

 

“At least you are visiting Mr Stark’s lab today!”

 

That did raise Peter’s spirits a little. Only for it to come crashing down again when his eyes fell on the “F”.

 

“Mr Stark is a genius who went to MIT at fifteen and graduated at seventeen. He majored in physics and electrical engineering. And here I am, failing my high school physics test.” Peter whispered, his voice rising in pitch. “I don’t deserve to go to his lab!”

 

Ned chortled. “Duuuude, don’t compare yourself to a boy genius.”

 

Peter dropped his head onto the desk.

 

“I hate everything.”

 

“Or, you could take advantage of knowing Tony freaking Stark and ask him for physics help.”

 

“I hate _everything_.”

 

Ned gave Peter a little pat again, making a small sound of sympathy.

  
  
  
  


 

 

“You look like someone stole your puppy, kid.” Tony said as soon as Peter let himself in the lab. He eyed Peter suspiciously. “No one stole your puppy right?”

 

“I don’t have a puppy, Mr Stark.” Peter sighed, tossing his backpack on the sofa at one end of the lab. “May and I would never be able to take care of one anyway.”

 

“Pity.” Tony said, with zero sympathy in his voice. He was already flicking up blueprints of Peter’s suit. “Karen told me you bitched about the suit’s water performance the other day.”

 

“Karen told on me??”

 

“I also saw your fall. It was pretty funny.” Tony grinned. Peter scowled.

 

“Yeah, laugh it up. Join the rest of the 350,000 viewers.”

 

“Actually, if you add up all the views on the different uploads and narrow it down to unique users, it’s 278,752. If that makes you feel better.”

 

“No.”

 

“Jesus, kid. Trying to lighten the mood here.”

 

“Well you’re making it worse.”

 

“Woah, someone is pissy today.”

 

Peter bit back a harsh retort. No matter how casually Tony treated him, he was still an adult and- and  _Tony Stark_. Billionaire, owner of Stark Industries, make of Spiderman's suit. Peter couldn't just mouth off at him. Besides, the man had done nothing wrong. It wouldn’t be fair to unload on him just because Peter had a shitty week. Even though he was really, super, extremely tempted to do so. 

 

Tony ducked his head to look at Peter’s face better. He turned away, feeling his cheeks burn.

 

“Come on, kid. I won’t be able to work with the thunderclouds over your head. Bad week?”

 

He was the first person so far to ask Peter that. May had chosen to give him his space, Ned had resorted to cheering Peter up, but no one had actually asked Peter how he was. It was like the dam in Peter’s mind finally broke, because someone had actually thought to pull the lever controlling the walls.

 

“I failed my Physics test.” Peter said miserably.

 

Tony blinked.

 

“That it?”

 

A flash of irritation shot through Peter. Scratch every warm thought he was just having about Tony, because  _o_ _f course_ Tony was making fun of him. The man had taken him out of school to fight a group of superhumans in Germany, rolled his eyes at the concept of doing homework, and probably skipped all his classes when he was Peter’s age - _at Peter’s age he was in MIT._ And sure, Peter’s reason sounded lame and he knew it was partially his fault, but Tony didn’t have to-

 

“Okay, now you look even more pissed.” Tony said. “That’s not what I meant. Er…”

 

“Forget it.” Peter said, shaking his head. “I’ll just head home. I’m tired.”

 

“Woah, woah.” Tony said, jogging around Peter to stop him, bodily blocking the way to the exit. “Don't do that. Happy drove you all the way here! Hey, look at me, come on, kid, I hate seeing you like this. Makes me feel all guilty and sad-” Peter narrowed his eyes. “-buuut this is totally not about me, stop glaring at me. This is about you, your feelings, and I hurt it. I’m sorry.”

 

Peter still got the feeling that Tony wasn’t taking this seriously, but the truth was, as annoying as the man could be, he didn’t want to leave. Being around Tony made Peter feel...safe. Happy. Tony felt like a rock in his life, someone he could hold onto - _figuratively,_ not literally, god he needed to forget that memory - even after the whole homecoming fiasco. Maybe it was because Peter had barely any other adult male figures in his life, and he was aware that Tony Stark was hardly an ideal mentor, but it was what it was. Peter liked the man very, very much.

 

So after just a few seconds of hesitation, he let his backpack slide off his shoulder again, and nodded in resignation.

 

“I’m in a bad mood. I’m sorry too.”

 

“Let’s start over.” Tony said, clearing his throat. “Bad week?”

 

Peter’s lips quirked up in a small smile. Tony had a way with people - sure, he could be irritating, but the man was _funny_. “Yeah, I failed my Physics test.”

 

“OH NO.” Tony said, dramatically slapping his face with both hands, faux-horror splayed across his features. “That’s terrible!”

 

“Mr. Staaark.” Peter groaned, shoving him lightly, even though he was already starting to laugh.

 

“What! I’m trying for you here kid.”

 

“You’re not supposed to be making fun of me.”

 

“I’m not making fun of you kid. I’m making you laugh, and I’ve done my job.” Tony picked up a screw-driver and waved it at Peter. “I’m a fixer. I fixed your black face.”

 

“You haven’t fixed anything.” Peter said petulantly, but already starting to feel better. “I’m still angry.”

 

“Sure you are. So besides failing a test, what happened?”

 

“I don’t even know where to start.”

 

“The beginning.”

 

“Well, I was born on a sweet, summer's day back in 2001-”

 

“You can leave now.”

 

Peter sniggered. “Okay, okay, so, you might want to grab a seat for this.”

  
  
  
  


 

 

15 minutes of non-stop ranting later, while the two of them pulled apart one of Tony’s old suits, Peter was feeling considerably happier. It was like a weight was lifted off his mind and all the things that had made him so upset the past week didn't seem like quite that big a deal anymore.

 

“Gotta say, kid, that does sound like a tough week.” Tony remarked, clapping him on the shoulder.

 

“It really was, Mr. Stark.”

 

“Well, you made it through. You got through all that shit and now you get rewarded with the best prize.”

 

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

 

“Me, duh.”

 

“Okay, Mr. Stark.”

 

“You get to talk about your week to me-”

 

“Uh, huh.”

 

“-instead of to a voicemail like on most days-”

 

“Right.”

 

“I mean, who can say they ranted about their week to Tony freaking Stark?”

 

“Me.”

 

“Exactly.” Tony threw up his hands. “Wasn’t it all worth it?”

 

“Debateable.”

 

“Uh, uh, uh, careful of what you say.” Tony’s eyes twinkled. “Or else I might rescind my invitation to stay the night.”

 

Peter’s jaw dropped. “W-w-what?”

 

Tony shrugged. “Subject to Aunt Hottie’s approval of course. Wait, I probably shouldn’t be saying that if I’m engaged right? Friday, delete those from the audio logs?”

 

“You are recording this?”

 

“And pull up a scan of the suit for me, will ya? I feel like I damaged this beyond repair.”

 

“Wait, hold up, back to- back to 30 second ago. When was I invited to stay?”

 

Tony stared at Peter like he had grown an extra head. “Does it matter kid? You wanna stay or not? You want the best freaking end to your week, or not?”

 

Something stirred in Peter’s stomach, rising up his chest and getting stuck in his throat. He knew Tony had only decided in the last 15 minutes to let Peter stay over, was deliberately acting obtuse because he didn’t want to make Peter feel self-conscious or like a burden. Tony Stark hid a lot of things from Peter, but there were times when he was open like a book - maybe deliberately open, just so Peter would know, even if Tony didn't say anything. It meant a lot to Peter, that the man was taking pains to do this for him. 

 

“Kid, don’t start crying, please.” Tony said, gestures exaggerated but with a hint of real trepidation in his movements. “I, er, I’m not good with crying babies.”

 

Peter huffed out a laugh. “I’m not a baby, Mr. Stark.”

 

“Course you are. Now go call your Aunt. Tell her Tony Stark needs you at the Compound for the night.”

 

“That makes it sound like you’re stealing me for a mission again.”

 

“Then, _god,_ make a story up.”

 

Peter grinned and pulled out his phone quickly. If going through a shit week meant Peter got to sleepover with Tony Stark, it was all worth it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WROTE A HAPPY CHAPTER. WITH NO ANGST. OMG. I'M SO PROUD OF ME, ARE YOU PROUD OF ME TOO?
> 
> Also, I typed this out fairly quickly because I didn't want to overthink it. It is clearly a lot more dialogue heavy but I thought it was more fun that way. My writing style is gonna be alllll over the place for this fic because I'm just writing off the top of my head most of the time hahaha but it's fun!!!
> 
> I'll probably go through and edit typos on this another day.


End file.
